


Throb

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26781439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Markus is stressed; Simon’s a godsend.
Relationships: Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 65





	Throb

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They _should_ have all the time in the world, but they _don’t_ —android bodies still break down, just far slower alone and quicker under duress. Since the moment Leo stormed into Carl’s studio, Markus has been under nothing but duress. He spends most of his days thinking, plotting, _acting_ , only powering down for a few precious hours every few nights. There’s always someone new to save and some new terror to stop. It takes its toll in little ways—new nicks in his so-human exterior, an odd thirium leak here and there that he tries to ignore, and now the plating in his back—somehow, they’ve become misaligned. Maybe it was whilst hauling back a new crate of replacement wires, or maybe whilst breaking into a repair shop selling androids like animals. Even for his advanced processors, the past few days have become a blur of agony and triumph.

He takes a small break, only a few minutes, to sit on a barrel in a backroom of Jericho and _breathe_. He doesn’t need the action of it, but Carl taught him mediation once, and that’s always been a fond, calming memory. It doesn’t help the ache in his shoulders, but it does help him focus on other things. There are more important problems to deal with than the dull pain of one lone, relatively healthy android. 

He’s rolling his left shoulder anyway when Simon wanders in. A quick scan shows he forgot to turn off his internal GPS, enabled only within Jericho. He remembers Carl once teasing that he _never forgot_ , but he was less damaged then, and less burdened. 

Simon offers a small smile, like he understands and knows exactly what Markus is going through, even though they haven’t interfaced in some time. Too long. Simon wanders closer, and Markus could say that he needs a few moments alone, but he doesn’t. 

He lets Simon circle around him. Simon stops just behind him, and he physically exhales as Simon’s talented figures trace down the nape of his neck. They dance across his spine, pressing lightly in, checking, rubbing, grazing beneath the collar of his shirt along the seam lines beneath his skin. Simon was a home model once, and he must have protocols for this—soothing, massaging, _touching_. He presses particularly hard in the worst area, and circuits spark, commands flashing across Markus’ HUDD that make him hiss aloud. But then the plating pops together, and the pain is instantly gone. Just like that. Maybe he should’ve thought to ask for help before.

Lucy gave him a cursory glance with no solutions. But he didn’t stay for a lengthy examination, and she doesn’t know his body like Simon does. Simon mutters, “I think you had a pinched wire.” 

Markus nods and reaches back, feeling the area out. “Thank you.”

Simon gives him a little squeeze that translates to _your welcome_ , and then Simon’s hands start to withdraw, but Markus snatches one trim wrist and pulls it back towards him. He couldn’t even say why. He doesn’t ask for _more_ , but Simon wordlessly gives it to him. Simon’s hands smooth across his shoulders and knead out nonexistent knots, tracing methodical, perfectly precise patterns that would probably have any human moaning in delight. Simon’s complex systems are always full of new wonders. 

Simon murmurs, “I didn’t think androids could appreciate massages.”

In the conventional sense, they can’t. But Markus admits, “I just like you touching me.”

An interface flares up. Simon’s hands don’t stop, but Markus can feel the synthetic skin peel away and the raw silicone beneath connecting with his. He returns the gesture, letting Simon flow into him, _feeling_ Simon smile. A shadow looms over his shoulder, and Simon bends to kiss his cheek. 

It’s exactly what Markus needs. It’s a better recharge than a full reboot. It reminds him what he’s fighting for, why it _matters_. He soaks it up for as long as he can justify the break, and then he finally climbs off the barrel, squaring his shoulders and straightening out. He sighs, “Let’s get back to work.”

Simon nods, at his side in a heartbeat—just like always. Markus promises, “I’ll return the favour later.” 

Simon says with just his eyes and mind, _I look forward to it._ Then his hand is in Markus’, and they’re walking back together.


End file.
